


Rid Me Of This Song (The Empris Lament)

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric comes back from a hard expedition, slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rid Me Of This Song (The Empris Lament)

**Author's Note:**

> It sings, clearer when they make camp, despite the distance.  
> “Can’t you hear it?” he murmurs, voice low and beaten, and Myra reaches out to hold his hand, pulling him back to them.  
> “Varric, if it’s too much I can -”  
> “No.” She would ask for Sera, or worse, Cole. He would not watch them fall under the spell, not like Bartrand. The very idea of Cole, twisted and lost by the red lyrium’s call, makes him want to throw up. He shivers. “No. I’m good.”

Empris du Lion is, in Varric’s most knowledgeable opinion, _the_ worst place on this Maker-forsaken earth. Between the bodies of the innocent, stacked up in piles like the waste of the villagers, and the near-constant hum of the red lyrium that seems to be around every damned corner and under every sodding rock and at one point it felt like it was under his bloody _skin_ – no, he was done with this place, truly. Even if the Inquisitor personally requested his return, he would never set foot here again.

He does not look for her at the gates – she is not the simpering maiden, hands clasped at her bosom as she awaits her lover, after all. But damn it all if he has not missed her terribly. Her presence would have helped his tolerance for that darkness – and the irony of _that_ turnabout is not lost on him, but he is not in the mood to pursue that thought. His head is still ringing, the memory of the song still haunting his steps as he makes his way through Skyhold. He means to make for the forge, but his feet are more insistent, leading him to the main keep and his own lodgings. She would understand, of course, but it does not lighten his mood.

Pushing open the door, he stops.

She is draped, a wonderful elegance to her as she relaxes in _his_ chair, his old smoky chair liberated from the ashes of the Hanged Man and sent to Skyhold as a favour from the old innkeeper, a book open between her fingers and the slightest frown of concentration as she reads.

And for a moment he does not say anything, does not break the spell of simply watching her, because she is here, _alive_ , and he has seen far too many dead bodies as of late.

Sensing his eyes on her, she looks up at him, straightening in the chair as she visibly brightens. “Varric?”

And there is that smile, a smile he has not seen in far too long – that soft warm curve of lips that she rarely displays for anyone else and he is home, Maker he’s _home_ and _alive_ and the red lyrium is far away and he cannot hear the singing, not anymore -

It is a handful of steps between them but he closes the gap in two, half-stumbling towards her as he braces himself with his knees either side of hers and crawls into her lap, and kisses her like she is air and he is suffocating, desperate hands clinging to her, _I need you I love you I was almost lost_ and she does not need to ask, does not need to know the details to understand, kissing him back with every ounce of love in her being because he is back, alive and he is home.

He pulls back, the ghost of a whimper on his tongue as his forehead rests on hers, breathing deeply. He wants to tell her, wants to explain himself and his urgency and his damned awful month without her, but the need is outweighed by inability, and he remains dumb as he breathes her in. Her hands come up to cup his face, peppering him with soft grounding kisses to bring him back to this moment. _You’re safe. You’re here._ It is not long before his desperation takes over once more, fingers clumsy on the hem of her shirt as he tugs fruitlessly at fabric.

Wrapping her arms around his chest, she hoists him up, pulling herself from the chair and dropping him into the seat. Standing above him, she pulls the shirt off with ease, a slight smile on her lips as she rests hands on hips.

“Better?”

He pushes himself up, tackling her to the bed and silencing her laughter with another lingering kiss. The breastband comes undone beneath his touch, questing fingers teasing sharp breaths from her lips.

“Varric -”

Her own hands find his trousers, making short work of the belt buckle.

“Cassandra -”

The buckle jangles as her fingers slip, her throat swallowing hard as she looks up at him. He rests his forehead against hers, eyes closing for a moment. The memory of the song still pulls at the edges of his mind, 

And then she pushes forward, kissing him hard and stealing his breath and his hands cannot move quick enough to remove the last of her clothing as she clings to him, a beautifully sharp gasp as he moves between her legs, one hand holding her still.

She is hot and tight and wet around his cock, and as he fucks her she moves with him, against him, _for_ him. He will not last, knows he is too far gone as her name falls from his lips like the prayers of a dying man, and she pulls herself closer, pushing up from the bed to bite at the soft skin of his neck and _oh, Cassandra, fuck -_

He falls fast, a few strokes more before tumbling over the edge, halfway between a cry and a word as her hands reach up to pull him down to her, another kiss on her lips before he slides over to rest by her side.

They fall into silence, and he watches her for a while, blissfully at peace despite himself. She strokes his hair, smile soft despite the tears in her eyes, and he reaches up to brush them away.

“Hey, Seeker.”

And she closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. “Varric,” she murmurs. “Maker, Varric -”

“Hey, don’t cry.” He smiles, finally, _finally_. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

“The Inquisitor said it was… bad. I did not even consider how awful it might be for you.”

He pulls her in tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Bad,” he agrees. “But I’m all good now.”

She nods, tucking into his side, her warmth soothing him to the edge of sleep. He closes his eyes, smiling.

“Remind me to make it up to you tomorrow.”

She kisses the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to.”

“Mm. Love you, Seeker.”

“Love you, Varric. I am… relieved that you came home.”

He shifts slightly, the darkness creeping in fast. “Yeah, me too.”


End file.
